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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Reinhard  S.  Speck  Collection 

of 

Harriet  Martineau 


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1861.] 


The  Young  Repealer. 


387 


The  one  the  fancy  of  Ovid  metamor- 
phosed from  a  restless  man  to  a  fickle 
sea-god  ;  the  other  assumed  so  many  de- 
ceptive shapes  to  those  who  visited  his 
cave,  that  his  memory  has  been  preserv- 
ed in  the  word  Protean.  Such  fancies 
well  apply  to  a  part  of  Nature  which 
shifts  like  the  sands,  and  ranges  from  the 


hideous  Cuttle-fish  and  ravenous  Shark  to 
the  delicate  Medusa,  whose  graceful  form 
and  trailing  tentacles  float  among  the 
waving  fronds  of  colored  Algas,  like 

"  Sabrina  fair, 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave, 
In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  tram  of  her  amber-dropping  hair." 


THE  YOUNG  EEPEALER. 


About  eighteen  years  ago,  when  I 
was  confined  to  two  rooms  by  illness  of 
long  standing,  I  received  a  remarkable 
note  by  post  one  day.  The  envelope, 
bearing  the  Dublin  postmark,  was  ad- 
dressed in  a  good,  bold,  manly  hand- 
writing; but  the  few  lines  within  show- 
ed traces  of  agitation.  What  I  am  going 
to  relate  is  a  true  story,  —  altogether 
true,  so  far  as  I  can  trust  my  memory, — 
except  the  name  of  the  Young  Eepealer. 
I  might  give  his  real  name  without  dan- 
ger of  hurting  any  person's  feelings  but 
one ;  but,  for  the  sake  of  that  one,  who 
will  thus  be  out  of  the  reach  of  my  nar- 
rative, I  speak  of  him  under  another 
name.  Having  to  choose  a  name,  I  will 
take  a  thoroughly  Irish  on^,  and  call  my 
correspondent  Patrick  Monahan. 

The  few  lines  which  showed  agitation 
in  the  handwriting  were  calm  in  lan- 
guage, but  very  strange.  Patrick  Mon- 
ahan told  me  that  he  was  extremely  un- 
happy, and  that  he  had  reason  to  believe 
that  I,  and  I  alone,  could  do  him  good. 
This,  with  the  address,  —  to  a  certain 
number  in  a  street  in  Dublin,  —  was 
all. 

There  was  little  time  before  the  post 
went  out ;  I  was  almost  unable  to  write 
from  illness ;  but,  after  a  second  glance 
at  this  note,  I  felt  that  I  dared  not  delay 
nay  reply.  I  did  not  think  that  it  was 
money  that  he  wished  to  ask.  I  did  not 
think  that  he  was  insane.  I  could  not 
conceive  why  he  should  apply  to  me,  nor 

VOL.  VIII.  22 


why  he  did  not  explain  what  he  wished 
from  me ;  but  I  had  a  strong  impression 
that  it  was  safest  to  reply  at  once.  I  did 
so,  in  half  a  dozen  lines,  promising  to 
write  next  day,  after  a  further  attempt 
to  discover  his  meaning,  and  begging  him 
to  consider  how  completely  in  the  dark 
I  was  as  to  him  and  his  case.  It  was  well 
that  I  wrote  that  day.  Long  after,  when 
he  was  letting  me  into  all  the  facts  of  his 
life,  he  told  me  that  he  had  made  my  re- 
plying at  once  or  not  the  turning-point 
of  his  fate.  If  the  post  had  brought  him 
nothing,  he  would  have  drowned  himself 
in  the  Liffey. 

My  second  letter  was  the  only  sort  of 
letter  that  it  could  be,  —  an  account  of 
my  own  conjectures  about  him,  and  of  my 
regret  that  I  could  see  no  probability  of 
my  being  of  use  to  him,  except  in  as  far 
as  my  experience  of  many  troubles  might 
enable  me  to  speak  suitably  to  him.  I 
added  some  few  words  on  the  dangers 
attending  any  sort  of  trouble,  when  too 
keenly  felt. 

In  answer  to  ;ny  first  note  came  a  few 
lines,  telling  me  that  the  purpose  of  his 
application  was  mainly  answered,  and 
that  my  reply  was  of  altogether  greater 
consequence  than  I  could  have  any  idea 
of.  He  was  less  unhappy  now,  and  be- 
lieved he  should  never  be  so  desperately 
wretched  again.  Wild  as  this  might  ap- 
pear, I  was  still  persuaded  that  he  was 
not  insane. 

By  the  next  post  came  a  rather  bulky 


338 


The  Young  Repealer, 


[September, 


packet.  It  contained,  besides  a  letter 
from  him,  two  or  three  old  parchment 
documents,  which  showed  that  Patrick's 
forefathers  had  filled  some  chief  munici- 
pal offices  in  the  city  in  which  the  fam- 
ily had  been  settled  for  several  genera- 
tions. I  had  divined  that  Patrick  was  a 
gentleman ;  and  he  now  showed  me  that 
he  came  of  a  good  and  honorable  fami- 
ly, and  had  been  well-educated.  He  was 
an  orphan,  and  had  not  a  relation  in  the 
world,  —  if  I  remember  right.  It  was 
evident  that  he  was  poor;  but  he  did 
not  ask  for  money,  nor  seem  to  write  on 
that  account.  He  aspired  to  a  literary 
life,  and  believed  he  should  have  done 
so,  even  if  he  had  had  the  means  of  pro- 
fessional education.  But  he  did  not  ask 
me  for  aid  in  trying  his  powers  in  litera- 
ture. It  was  very  perplexing ;  and  the 
fact  became  presently  clear  that  he  ex- 
pected me  to  tell  him  how  I  could  be  of 
use  to  .him,  —  he  being  in  no  way  able 
to  afford  me  that  Information.  I  may  as 
well  give  here  the  key  to  the  mystery, 
which  I  had  to  wait  for  for  some  time. 
When  poor  Patrick  was  in  a  desperate 
condition,  —  very  ill,  in  a  lodging  of 
which  he  could  not  pay  the  rent, — 
threatened  with  being  turned  into  the 
street  as  soon  as  the  thing  could  be  done 
without  danger  to  his  life,  —  galled  with 
a  sense  of  disgrace,  and  full  of  impotent 
wrath  against  an  oppressor,  —  and  even 
suffering  under  deeper  griefs  than  these, 
—  at  such  a  time,  the  worn  man  fell 
asleep,  and  dreamed  that  I  looked  kindly 
upon  him.  This  happened  three  times ; 
and  on  this  ground,  and  this  alone,  he 
applied  to  me  for  comfort. 

Before  I  learned  this  much,  I  had 
taken  upon  me  to  advise  freely  whatever 
occurred  to  me  as  best,  finding  Patrick 
entirely  docile  under  my  suggestions. 
Among  other  things,  I  advised  him  not 
to  take  offence,  or  assume  any  reserve, 
if  a  gentleman  should  call  on  him,  with 
a  desire  to  be  of  use  to  him.  A  gentle- 
man did  call,  and  was  of  eminent  use 
to  him.  I  had  written  to  a  benevolent 
friend  of  mine,  a  chief  citizen  of  Dublin, 
begging  him  to  obtain  for  me,  through 


some  trusty  clerk  or  other  messenger, 
some  information  as  to  what  Patrick  was 
like,  —  how  old  he  was,  what  he  was 
doing,  and  whether  anything  effectual 
could  be  done  for  him.  Mr.  H.  went 
himself  He  found  Patrick  sitting  over 
a  little  fire  in  a  little  room,  his  young' 
face  thin  and  flushed,  and  his  thin  hands 
showing  fever.  He  had  had  inflammation 
of  the  lungs,  and,  though  he  talked  cheer- 
fully, he  was  yet  very  far  from  well. 
Mr.  H.  was  charmed  with  him.  He 
found  in  him  no  needless  reserves,  and 
not  so  much  sensitive  pride  as  we  had 
feared.  Patrick  had  great  hopes  of  suf- 
ficient employment,  when  once  he  could 
get  out  and  go  and  see  about  it;  and 
he  pointed  out  two  or  three  directions 
in  which  he  believed  he  could  obtain 
engagements.  Two  things,  however, 
were  plain :  that  there  was  some  diffi- 
culty about  getting  out,  and  that  his 
mind  was  set  upon  going  to  London  at 
the  first  possible  moment.  He  had  not 
only  the  ordinary  provincial  ambition  to 
achieve  an  entrance  into  the  London 
literary  world,  but  he  had  another  ob- 
ject :  he  could  serve  his  country  best 
in  London.  Mr.  H.  easily  divined  the 
nature  of  the  obstacle  to  his  going  out 
into  the  fresh  air  which  he  needed  so 
much ;  and  in  a  few  days  Patrick  had  a 
good  suit  of  clothes.  This  was  Mr.  H.'s 
doing ;  and  be  also  removed  the  danger 
of  Patrick's  being  turned  out  of  his  lodg- 
ing. The  landlord  had  no  wish  to  do 
such  a  thing ;  the  young  man  was  a  gen- 
tleman,— regular  and  self-denying  in  his 
habits,  and  giving  no  trouble  that  he 
could  help :  but  he  had  been  very  ill ; 
and  it  was  so  desolate  !  Nobody  came 
to  see  him;  no  letters  arrived  for  him; 
no  money  was  coming  in,  it  was  clear ; 
and  he  could  not  go  on  living  there,  — 
starving,  in  fact. 

Once  able  to  go  about  again,  Patrick 
cheered  up ;  but  it  was  plain  that  there 
was  one  point  on  which  he  would  not  be 
ruled.  He  would  not  stay  in  Dublin, 
under  any  Inducement  whatever;  and 
he  would  go  to  London.  I  wrote  very 
plainly  to  him   about  the  risk  he  was 


1861.] 


The  Young  Repealer, 


339 


running,  —  even  describing  the  desolate 
condition  of  the  unsuccessful  literary  ad- 
venturer in  the  dreary  peopled  wilder- 
ness, in  which  the  friendless  may  lie 
down  and  die  alone,  as  the  starved  ani- 
mal lies  down  and  perishes  in  the  ravine 
in  the  desert.  I  showed  him  how  impos- 
sible it  was  for  me  or  anybody  to  help 
him,  except  with  a  little  money,  till  he 
had  shown  what  he  could  do ;  and  I  en- 
treated him  to  wait  two  years,  —  one 
year,  —  six  months,  before  rushing  on 
such  a  fate.  Here,  and  here  alone,  he 
was  self-willed.  At  first  he  explained  to 
me  that  he  had  one  piece  of  employment 
to  rely  on.  He  was  to  be  the  London 
correspondent  of  the  Repeal  organ  in 
Dublin,— the  "  Nation  "  newspaper.  The 
pay  was  next  to  nothing.  He  could  not 
live,  ever  so  frugally,  on  four  times  the 
amount :  but  It  was  an  engagement ;  and 
it  would  enable  him  to  serve  his  country. 
So,  as  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done, 
Mr.  H.  started  him  for  London,  with 
just  money  enough  to  carry  him  there. 
Once  there,  he  was  sure  he  should  do 
very  well. 

I  doubted  this ;  and  he  was  met,  at 
the  address  he  gave,  (at  an  Irish  green- 
grocer's, the  only  person  he  knew  in 
London,)  by  an  order  for  money  enough 
to  carry  him  over  two  or  three  weeks, 
—  money  given  by  two  or  three  friends 
to  whom  T  ventured  to  open  the  case.  I 
have  seldom  read  a  happier  letter  than 
Patrick's  first  from  London ;  but  it  was 
not  even  then,  nor  for  some  time  after, 
that  he  told  me  the  main  reason  of  his 
horror  at  remaining  in  Dublin. 

He  had  hoped  to  support  himself  as  a 
tutor  while  studying  and  practising  for 
the  literary  profession  ;  and  he  had  been 
engaged  to  teach  the  children  of  a  rich 
citizen,  —  not  only  the  boys,  but  the 
daughter.  He,  an  engaging  youth  of 
three -and -twenty,  with  blue  eyes  and 
golden  hair,  an  Innocent  and  noble  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  an  open  heart, 
a  glowing  imagination,  and  an  eloquent 
tongue,  was  set  to  teach  Latin  and  litera- 
ry composition  to  a  pretty,  warm-heart- 
ed, romantic  girl  of  twenty ;  and  when 


they  were  in  love  and  engaged,  the  fa- 
ther considered  himself  the  victim  of  the 
basest  treachery  that  ever  man  suffered 
under.  In  vain  the  young  people  plead- 
ed for  leave  to  love  and  wait  till  Patrick 
could  provide  a  home  for  his  wife.  They 
asked  no  favor  but  to  be  let  alone.  Pat- 
rick's family  was  as  good  as  hers  ;  and 
he  had  the  education  and  manners  of  a 
gentleman,  without  any  objectionable 
habits  or  tastes,  but  with  every  possi- 
ble desire  to  win  an  honorable  home  for 
his  beloved.  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think 
there  was  a  moment  when  they  thought 
of  eloping  some  day,  if  nothing  but  the 
paternal  displeasure  Intervened  between 
them  and  happiness ;  but  it  was  not  yet 
time  for  this.  There  was  much  to  be 
done  first.  What  the  father  did  first  was 
to  turn  Patrick  out  of  the  house,  under 
such  circumstances  of  ignominy  as  he 
could  devise.  What  he  did  next  was  the 
blow  which  broke  the  poor  fellow  down. 
Patrick  had  written  a  letter,  in  answer 
to  the  treatment  he  had  received,  in 
which  he  expressed  his  feelings  as  strong- 
ly as  one  might  expect.  This  letter  was 
made  the  ground  of  a  complaint  at  the 
police-office ;  and  Patrick  was  arrested, 
marched  before  the  magistrate,  and  ar- 
raigned as  the  sender  of  a  threatening 
letter  to  a  citizen.  In  vain  he  protested 
that  no  idea  of  threatening  anybody  had 
been  in  his  mind.  The  letter,  as  com- 
mented on  by  his  employer,  was  pro- 
nounced sufficiently  menacing  to  justify 
his  being  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace 
towards  this  citizen  and  all  his  family. 
The  intention  was,  no  doubt,  to  disgrace 
him,  and  put  him  out  of  the  question  as 
a  suitor ;  for  no  man  could  pretend  to  be 
really  afraid  of  violence  from  a  candid 
youth  like  Patrick,  who  loved  the  daugh- 
ter too  well  to  lift  a  finger  against  any 
one  connected  with  her.  The  scheme 
succeeded  ;  for  he  believed  it  had  broken 
his  heart.  He  supposed  himself  utterly 
disgraced  in  Dublin ;  and  he  could  live 
there  no  longer.  Hence  his  self-will 
about  going  to  London. 

In  addition  to  this  personal,  there  was 
a  patriotic  view.     Very  early  in  our  cor- 


340 


The  Young  Repealer, 


[September, 


respondence,  Patrick  told  me  that  he  was 
a  Repealer.  He  fancied  himself  a  very 
moderate  one,  and  likely  on  that  account 
to  do  the  more  good.  Those  were  the  days 
of  O'Connell's  greatest  power ;  or,  if  it 
was  on  the  wane,  no  one  yet  recognized 
any  change.  Patrick  knew  one  of  the 
younger  O'Connells,  and  had  been  flat- 
teringly noticed  by  the  great  Dan  him- 
self, who  had  approved  the  idea  of  his 
going  to  London,  hoped  to  see  him  there 
some  day,  and  had  prophesied  that  this 
young  friend  of  his  would  do  great  things 
for  the  cause  by  his  pen,  and  be  con- 
spicuous among  the  saviours  of  Ireland. 
Patrick's  head  was  not  quite  turned  by 
this ;  and  he  lamented,  in  his  letters  to 
me,  the  plans  proposed  and  the  language 
held  by  the  common  run  of  O'Connell's 
followers.  Those  were  the  days  when 
the  Catholic  peasantry  believed  that "  Re- 
pale  "  would  make  every  man  the  owner 
of  the  land  he  lived  on,  or  of  that  which 
he  wished  to  live  on  ;  and  the  great  Dan 
did  not  disabuse  them.  Those  were  the 
days  when  poor  men  believed  that  "  Re- 
pale  "  would  release  every  one  from  the 
debts  he  owed  ;  and  Dan  did  not  contra- 
dict it.  When  Dan  was  dead,  the  conse- 
quence of  his  not  contradicting  it  was 
that  a  literal -minded  fellow  here  and 
.there  shot  the  creditor  who  asked  for 
payment  of  the  coat,  or  the  pig,  or  the 
meal.  For  all  this  delusion  Patrick  was 
sorry.  He  was  sorry  to  hear  Protestant 
shopmen  wishing  for  the  day  when  Dub- 
hn  streets  would  be  knee-deep  in  Catho- 
lic blood,  and  to  hear  Cathohc  shopmen 
reciprocating  the  wish  in  regard  to  Prot- 
estant blood.  He  was  anxious  to  make 
me  understand  that  he  had  no  such  no- 
tions, and  that  he  even  thought  O'Con- 
nell  mistaken  in  appearing  to  counte- 
nance such  mistakes.  But  still  he,  Pat- 
rick, was  a  Repealer ;  and  he  wished  me 
to  know  precisely  what  he  meant  by  that, 
and  what  he  proposed  to  do  in  conse- 
quence. He  thought  it  a  sin  and  shame 
that  Ireland  should  be  trodden  under  the 
heel  of  the  Saxon ;  he  thought  the  domi- 
nation of  the  English  Parliament  intoler- 
able ;  he  considered  it  just  that  the  Irish 


should  make  their  own  laws,  own  their 
own  soil,  and  manage  their  own  affairs. 
He  had  no  wish  to  bring  in  the  French,  or 
any  other  enemy  of  England ;  and  he  was 
fully  disposed  to  be  loyal  to  the  Crown, 
if  the  Crown  would  let  Ireland  entirely 
alone.  Even  the  constant  persecution 
inflicted  upon  Ireland  had  not  destroyed 
his  loyalty  to  the  Crown.  Such  were  the 
views  on  which  his  letters  to  the  "Na- 
tion" newspaper  were  to  be  grounded. 
In  reply,  I  contented  myself  with  pro- 
posing that  he  should  make  sure  of  his 
ground  as  he  went  along ;  for  which  pur- 
pose he  should  ascertain  what  proportion 
of  the  people  of  Ireland  wished  for  a  re- 
peal of  the  Union  ;  and  what  sort  of  peo- 
ple they  were  who  desired  Repeal  on  the 
one  hand,  or  continued  Union  on  the  oth- 
er. I  hoped  he  would  satisfy  himself  as 
to  what  Repeal  could  and  could  not  ef- 
fect ;  and  that  he  would  study  the  history 
of  Irish  Parliaments,  to  learn  what  the 
character  and  bearing  of  their  legislation 
had  been,  and  to  estimate  the  chances  of 
good  government  by  that  kind  of  legisla- 
ture, in  comparison  with  the  Imperial 
Parliament. 

If  any  foreign  reader  should  suppose 
it  impossible,  that,  in  modern  times,  there 
can  have  been  hopes  entertained  in  Dub- 
lin of  the  streets  being  inundated  with 
blood,  such  reader  may  be  referred  to 
the  evidence  afforded  of  Repeal  senti- 
ment five  years  later  than  the  time  of 
which  I  write.  When  the  heroes  of  that 
rising  of  1848  —  of  whom  John  Mitchell 
is  the  sample  best  known  in  America  — 
were  tracked  in  their  plans  and  devices, 
it  appeared  what  their  proposed  methods 
of  warfare  were.  Some  of  these,  detail- 
ed in  Repeal  newspapers,  and  copied  in- 
to American  journals,  were  proposed  to 
the  patriotic  women  of  Ireland,  as  their 
peculiar  means  of  serving  their  coun- 
try ;  and  three  especially.  Red-hot  iron 
hoops,  my  readers  may  remember,  were 
to  be  cast  down  from  balconies,  so  as 
to  pin  the  arms  of  English  soldiers 
marching  in  the  street,  and  scorch  their 
hearts.  Vitriol  was  to  be  flung  into  their 
eyes.     Boiling  oil  was  to  be  poured  up- 


1861.] 


The   Young  Repealer, 


341 


on  them  from  windows.  This  is  enough. 
Nobody  believes  that  the  thing  would  ev- 
er have  been  done  ;  but  the  lively  and 
repeated  discussion  of  it  shows  how  the 
feelings  of  the  ignorant  are  perverted, 
and  the  passions  of  party-men  are  stimu- 
lated in  Ireland,  when  unscrupulous  lead- 
ers arise,  proposing  irrational  projects. 
The  consequences  have  been  seen  in 
Popish  and  Protestant  fights  in  Ulster, 
and  in  the  midnight  drill  of  Phoenix 
Clubs  in  Munster,  and  in  John  Mitchell's 
passion  for  fat  negroes  in  the  Slave  States 
of  America.  In  Ireland  such  notions  are 
regarded  now  as  a  delirious  dream,  ex- 
cept by  a  John  Mitchell  here  and  there. 
Smith  O'Brien  himself  declares  that  there 
is  nothing  to  be  done  while  the  people 
of  Ireland  are  satisfied  with  the  govern- 
ment they  live  under ;  and  that,  if  it  were 
otherwise,  nothing  can  be  done  for  a  peo- 
ple which  either  elects  jobbers  to  Parlia- 
ment, or  suspects  every  man  of  being  a 
traitor  who  proceeds,  when  there,  to  do 
the  business  of  his  function.  I  suspect- 
ed that  Patrick  would  find  out  some  of 
these  things  for  himself  in  London  ;  and 
I  left  him  to  make  his  own  discoveries, 
when  I  had  pointed  out  one  or  two  paths 
of  inquiry. 

The  process  was  a  more  rapid  one  than 
I  had  anticipated.  He  reported  his  first 
letter  to  the  "  Nation  "  with  great  satis- 
faction. He  had  begun  his  work  in  Lon- 
don. He  went  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  came  away  sorely  perplexed. 
After  having  heard  and  written  so  much 
of  the  wrongs  of  Ireland  under  the  dom- 
ination of  the  English  Parliament,  he 
found  that  Ireland  actually  and  practi- 
cally formed  a  part  of  that  Parliament, — 
the  legislature  being,  not  English,  but 
Imperial.  He  must  have  known  this  be- 
fore ;  but  he  had  never  felt  it.  He  now 
saw  that  Ireland  was  as  well  represented 
as  England  or  Scotland  ;  that  political 
offices  were  held  in  fair  proportion  by 
Irishmen ;  and  that  the  Irish  members 
engrossed  much  more  than  a  fair  share 
of  the  national  time  in  debate  and  proj- 
ects of  legislation.  He  saw  at  once  that 
here  was  an  end  of  all  excuse  for  talk  of 


oppression  by  Parliament,  and  of  all 
complaints  which  assumed  that  Ireland 
was  unrepresented.  He  was  previously 
aware  that  Ireland  was  more  lightly  tax- 
ed than  the  rest  of  the  empire.  The 
question  remained,  whether  a  local  legis- 
lature would  or  would  not  be  a  better 
thing  than  a  share  in  the  Imperial  Par- 
liament. This  was  a  fair  subject  of  ar- 
gument ;  but  he  must  now  dismiss  all  no- 
tions grounded  on  the  mistake  of  Ireland 
being  unrepresented,  and  oppressed  by 
the  representatives  of  other  people. 

In  the  letter  which  disclosed  these  new 
views  Patrick  reported  his  visit  to  O'- 
Connell.  He  had  reminded  Lis  friend, 
the  junior  O' Council,  of  Dan's  invitation 
to  him  to  go  to  see  him  in  London  ;  and 
he  had  looked  forward  to  their  levee  with 
delight  and  expectation.  Whether  he  had 
candidly  expressed  his  thoughts  about 
the  actual  representation  of  Ireland,  I 
don't  know  ;  but  it  was  plain  that  he  had 
not  much  enjoyed  the  interview.  O'Con- 
nell  looked  very  well  :  the  levee  was 
crowded  :  O'Connell  was  surrounded  by 
ardent  patriots :  the  junior  O'Connell 
had  led  Patrick  up  to  his  father  with 
particular  kindness.  Still,  there  was  no 
enthusiasm  in  the  report ;  and  the  next 
letter  showed  the  reason  why.  Patrick 
could  not  understand  O'Connell  at  alL 
It  was  certain  that  Dan  remembered 
him;  and  he  could  not  have  forgotten 
the  encouragement  he  gave  him  to  write 
on  behalf  of  his  country;  yet  now  he 
was  cold,  even  repellent  in  his  man- 
ner ;  and  he  tried  to  pretend  that  he  did 
not  know  who  Patrick  was.  What  could 
this  mean  ? 

Again  I  trusted  to  Patrick's  finding  out 
for  himself  what  it  meant.  To  be  brief 
about  a  phase  of  human  experience  which 
has  nothing  new  in  it,  Patrick  presently 
saw  that  the  difficulty  of  governing  Ire- 
land by  a  local  legislature  and  executive 
is  this  :  —  that  no  man  is  tolerated  from 
the  moment  he  can  do  more  than  talk. 
Irish  members  under  O'Connell's  eye 
were  for  the  most  part  talkers  only. 
Then  and  since,  every  Irishman  who 
accepts    the    office    so  vehemently  de- 


34!^ 


The   Young  Repealer. 


[September, 


manded  is  suspected  of  a  good  under- 
standing with  Englishmen,  and  soon  be- 
comes reviled  as  a  traitor  and  plaee- 
liunter.  Between  the  mere  talkers  and 
the  proscribed  office-holders,  Ireland 
would  get  none  of  her  business  done, 
if  the  Imperial  Government  did  not  un- 
dertake affairs,  and  see  that  Ireland  was 
taken  care  of  by  somebody  or  other.  Pat- 
rick saw  that  this  way  of  putting  Gov- 
ernment in  abeyance  was  a  mild  copy 
of  what  happened  when  a  Parliament 
sat  in  Dublin,  perpetrating  the  most  in- 
solent tyranny  and  the  vilest  jobs  ever 
witnessed  under  any  representative  sys- 
tem. He  told  me,  very  simply,  that  the 
people  of  Ireland  should  send  to  Parlia- 
ment men  whom  they  could  trust,  and 
should  trust  them  to  act  when  there :  the 
people  should  either  demand  a  share  of 
office  for  their  countrymen,  or  make  up 
their  minds  to  go  without;  they  ought 
not  first  to  demand  office  for  Irishmen, 
and  then  call  every  Irishman  a  traitor 
and  self-seeker  who  took  it.  In  a  very 
short  time  he  told  me  that  he  found  he 
had  much  to  unlearn  as  well  as  learn : 
that  many  things  of  which  he  had  been 
most  sure  now  turned  out  to  be  mistakes, 
and  many  very  plain  matters  to  be  exceed- 
ingly complicated;  but  that  the  one  thing 
about  which  there  could  be  no  mistake 
"was,  that,  in  such  a  state  of  opinion,  he 
was  no  proper  guide  for  the  readers  of 
the  "  Nation,"  and  he  had  accordingly 
sent  in  his  resignation  of  his  appoint- 
ment, together  with  some  notices  to  the 
editor  of  the  different  light  in  which  Irish 
matters  appear  outside  the  atmosphere  of 
Kepeal  meetings. 

In  thus  cutting  loose  from  his  only  means 
of  pecuniary  support,  Patrick  forfeited  al- 
so his  patriotic  character.  He  was  as  thor- 
oughly ruined  in  the  eyes  of  Repealers 
as  if  he  had  denounced  the  "  Saxon  "  one 
hour  and  the  next  crept  into  some  warm 
place  in  the  Custom-House  on  his  knees. 
p  Here  ended  poor  Patrick's  short  politi- 
cal life,  after,  I  think,  two  letters  to  the 
*'  Nation,"  and  here  ended  all  hope  of 
aid  from  his  countrymen  in  London.  His 
letter  was  very  moving.     He  knew  him- 


self to  be  mortified  by  O'Connell's  be- 
havior to  him ;  but  he  felt  that  he  could 
not  submit  to  be  regarded  with  suspicion 
because  he  had  come  to  see  for  himself 
how  matters  stood.  He  did  not  give  up 
Repeal  yet:  he  only  wanted  to  study 
the  case  on  better  knowledge  ;  and  in 
order  to  have  a  perfectly  clear  con- 
science and  judgment,  he  gave  up  his 
only  pecuniary  resource,  —  his  love  and 
a  future  home  being  in  the  distance,  and 
always  in  view,  all  the  time.  Here,  in 
spite  of  some  lingering  of  old  hopes,  two 
scenes  of  his  young  hfe  had  closed.  His 
Irish  life  was  over,  and  his  hope  of  politi- 
cal service. 

I  had  before  written  about  him  to  two 
or  three  literary  friends  in  London  ;  and 
now  I  felt  bound  to  see  what  could  be 
done  in  opening  a  way  for  him.  He  had 
obtained  the  insertion  of  a  tale  in  a  mag- 
azine, for  which  he  had  one  guinea  in 
payment.  This  raised  his  spirits,  and 
gave  him  a  hope  of  itidependence  ;  for  it 
was  a  parting  of  the  clouds,  and  there 
was  no  saying  how  much  sunlight  might 
be  let  down.  He  was  willing  to  apply 
himself  to  any  drudgery ;  but  his  care  to 
undertake  nothing  that  he  was  not  sure 
of  doing  well  was  very  striking.  He 
might  have  obtained  good  work  as  classi- 
cal proof-corrector;  but  he  feared,  that, 
though  his  classical  attainments  were 
good,  his  training  had  not  qualified  him 
for  the  necessary  accuracy.  He  had 
some  employment  of  the  sort,  if  I  re- 
member right,  which  defrayed  a  portion 
of  his  small  expenses.  His  expenses  were 
indeed  small.  He  told  me  all  his  little 
gains  and  his  weekly  outlay  ;  and  I  Avas 
really  afraid  that  he  did  not  allow  him- 
self sufficient  food.  Yet  he  knew  that 
there  was  a  little  money  in  my  hands, 
when  he  wanted  it.  His  letters  became 
now  very  gay  in  spirits.  He  keenly  rel- 
ished the  society  into  which  he  was  in- 
vited ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  every- 
body liked  him.  It  was  amusing  to  me, 
in  my  sick  room,  three  hundred  miles  off, 
to  hear  of  the  impression  he  made,  with 
his  innocence,  his  fresh  delight  in  his 
new  life,  his  candor,  his  modesty,  and  his 


1861.] 


The  Young  Repealer, 


343 


bright  cleverness,  —  and  then,  again,  to 
learn  how  diligently  he  had  set  about 
learning  what  I,  his  correspondent,  was 
really  like.  In  his  dreams  he  had  seen 
me  very  aged,  —  he  thought  upwards  of 
■eighty  ;  and  he  had  never  doubted  of  the 
fact  being  so.  In  one  letter  he  told  me, 
that,  finding  a  brother  of  mine  was  then 
in  London,  he  was  going  that  afternoon 
to  a  public  meeting  to  see  him,  in  order  to 
have  some  idea  of  my  aspect.  A  mutual 
friend  told  me  afterwards  that  Patrick  had 
come  away  quite  bewildered  and  disap- 
pointed. He  had  expected  to  see  in  my 
brother  a  gray-haired  ancient;  whereas 
he  found  a  man  under  forty.  I  really  be- 
lieve he  was  disturbed  that  his  dreams 
had  misled  him.  Yet  I  never  observed 
any  other  sign  of  superstition  in  him. 

At  last  the  happy  day  came  when  he 
had  a  literary  task  worthy  of  him,  —  a 
sort  of  test  of  his  capacity  for  reviewing. 
One  of  the  friends  to  whom  I  had  intro- 
duced him  was  then  sub-editor  of  the 
"  Athenaeum,"  —  a  weekly  periodical  of 
higher  reputation  at  that  time  than  now. 
Patrick  was  commissioned  to  review  a 
book  of  some  weight  and  consequence, — 
Sir  Robert  Kane's  "  Industrial  Resources 
of  Ireland,"  —  and  he  did  it  so  well  that 
the  conductors  hoped  to  give  him  a  good 
deal  of  employment.  What  they  gave 
him  would  have  led  to  more ;  and  thus  he 
really  was  justified  in  his  exultation  at 
having  come  to  London.  I  remember, 
that,  in  the  midst  of  his  joy,  he  startled 
me  by  some  light  mention  of  his  having 
spit  blood,  after  catching  cold,  —  a  thing 
which  had  happened  before  in  Ireland. 
In  answer  to  my  inquiries,  my  friends 
told  me  that  he  certainly  looked  very 
delicate,  but  made  light  of  it.  It  hap- 
pened, unfortunately,  that  he  was  obliged 
just  then  to  change  his  lodging.  He  in- 
creased his  cold  by  going  about  in  bad 
weather  to  look  for  another.  He  found 
one,  however,  and  settled  himself,  in 
hope  of  doing  great  things  there. 

He  had  not  been  there  a  week  before 
he  rang  his  bell  one  day,  and  was  found 
bleeding  from  the  lungs.  His  landlady 
called  in  a  physician  ;  and  it  is  probable 


that  this  gentleman  did  not  know  or  sus- 
pect the  circumstances  of  his  patient; 
for  he  not  only  ordered  ice  and  various 
expensive  things,  but  took  fees,  while  the 
poor  patient  was  lying  forbidden  to  speak, 
and  gnawed  with  anxiety  as  to  where 
more  money  was  to  come  from,  and  with 
eagerness  to  get  to  work.  His  friends 
soon  found  him  out  in  his  trouble ;  and  I 
understood  from  him  afterwards,  and  from 
others  who  knew  more  about  it  than  he 
did,  that  they  were  extremely  kind.  I  be- 
lieve that  one  left  a  bank-note  of  a  con- 
siderable amount  at  the  door,  in  a  blank 
envelope.  All  charges  were  defrayed, 
and  he  was  bidden  not  to  be  anxious. 
Yet  something  must  be  done.  What 
must  it  be  ? 

As  soon  as  he  was  allowed  to  raise  his 
head  from  his  pillow,  he  wrote  me  a  note 
in  pencil ;  and  it  afforded  an  opening  for 
discussing  his  affairs  with  him.  He  had 
some  impression  of  his  life's  being  in  dan- 
ger; for  it  was  now  that  he  confided  to 
me  the  whole  story  of  his  attachment,  and 
the  sufferings  attending  it:  but  he  was 
still  sanguine  about  doing  great  things  in 
literature,  and  chafing  at  his  unwilling 
idleness.  I  was  strongly  of  opinion  that 
the  best  way  of  dealing  with  him  was  to 
be  perfectly  open  ;  and,  after  proposing 
that  we  should  have  no  reserves,  I  told 
him  what  (proceeding  on  his  own  report 
of  his  health)  I  should  in  his  place  decide 
upon  doing.  His  pride  would  cause  him 
some  pain  in  either  of  the  two  courses 
which  were  open  to  him,  —  but,  I  thought, 
more  in  one  than  the  other.  If  he  re- 
mained in  his  lodgings,  he  would  break 
his  heart  about  being  a  burden  (as  he 
would  say)  to  his  friends ;  and  he  would 
fret  after  work  so  as  to  give  himself  no 
chance  of  such  recovery  as  might  be 
hoped  for :  whereas,  if  he  could  once 
cheerfully  agree  to  enter  a  hospital,  he 
would  have  every  chance  of  rallying,  and 
all  the  sooner  for  being  free  from  any 
painful  sense  of  obligation.  If  the  treat- 
ment should  succeed,  this  passage  In  his 
life  would  be  something  to  smile  at  here- 
after, or  to  look  back  upon  with  sound 
satisfaction ;  and  if  not,  he  would  have 


sa 


The  Young  Repealer. 


[September, 


friends  about  him,  just  as  he  would  in  a 
lodging. 

The  effect  was  what  I  wished.  My  let- 
ter gave  no  offence,  and  did  him  no  harm. 
He  only  begged  for  a  few  days  more,  be- 
fore deciding,  that  he  might  satisfy  him- 
self whether  he  was  getting  well  or  not  : 
if  not,  he  would  cheerfully  go  wherever 
his  friends  advised,  and  believe  that  the 
plan  was  the  best  for  him. 

In  those  few  days  arrangements  were 
made  for  his  being  received  at  the  Sana- 
torium, —  an  institution  in  which  sick 
persons  who  had  either  previously  sub- 
scribed, or  who  were  the  nominees  of  sub- 
scribers, were  received,  and  well  tended 
for  a  guinea  a  week,  under  the  comfort- 
able circumstances  of  a  private  house. 
Each  patient  had  a  separate  chamber ; 
and  the  medical  attendance,  diet,  and 
arrangements  were  of  a  far  higher  order 
than  poor  Patrick  could  have  command- 
ed in  lodgings.  Above  all,  the  resident 
surgeon  —  now  a  distinguished  physician, 
superintendent  of  a  lunatic  asylum — was 
a  man  to  make  a  friend  of,  —  a  man  of 
cultivated  mind,  tender  heart,  and  cheer- 
ful and  gentle  manners.  Patrick  won  his 
heart  at  once ;  and  every  note  of  Pat:  'cic's 

glowed  with  affection  for  Doctor  H . 

After  a  few  weeks  of  alternating  hope 
and  fear,  after  a  natural  series  of  fluctu- 
ations of  spirits,  Patrick  wrote  me  a  re- 
markably quiet  letter.  He  told  me  that 
both  his  doctors  had  given  him  a  plain 
answer  to  his  question  whether  he  could 
recover.  They  had  told  him  that  it  was 
impossible  ;  but  he  could  not  learn  from 
them  how  long  they  thought  he  would 
live.  He  saw  now,  however,  that  he  must 
give  up  his  efforts  to  work.  He  believed 
he  could  have  worked  a  little  :  but  per- 
haps he  was  no  judge ;  and  if  he  really 
was  dying,  he  could  not  be  wrong  in  obey- 
ing the  directions  of  those  who  had  the 
care  of  him.  Once  afterwards  he  told 
me  that  his  physicians  did  not,  he  saw, 
expect  him  to  live  many  months,  —  per- 
haps not  even  many  weeks. 

It  was  now  clear  to  my  mind  what 
would  please  him  best.  I  told  him,  that, 
if  he  Uked  to  furnish  me  with  the  address 


of  that  house  in  Dublin  in  which  hj^ 
thoughts  chiefly  lived,  I  would  take  care 
that  the  young  lady  there  should  know 
that  he  died  in  honor,  having  fairly  en- 
tered upon  tlie  literary  career  which  had 
always  been  his  aspiration,  and  surround- 
ed by  friends  whose  friendship  was  a  dis- 
tinction. His  words  in  reply  were  few, 
calm,  and  fervent,  intimating  that  he  now 
had  not  a  care  left  in  the  world  :  and 
Doctor  H wondered  what  had  hap- 
pened to  make  him  so  gay  from  the  hour 
he  received  my  letter. 

His  decline  was  a  rapid  one ;  and  I  soon 
learned,  by  very  short  notes,  that  he  hard- 
ly left  his  bed.  When  it  was  supposed 
that  he  would  never  leave  his  room  again, 
he  surprised  the  whole  household  by  a 
great  feat.  I  should  have  related  before 
what  a  favorite  he  was  with  all  the  other 
patients.  He  was  the  sunshine  of  the 
house  while  able  to  get  to  the  drawing- 
room,  and  the  pet  of  each  invalid  by  the 
chamber-fire.  On  Christmas  morning, 
he  slipped  out  of  bed,  and  managed  to 
get  his  clothes  on,  while  alone,  and  was 
met  outside  his  own  door,  bent  on  giving 
a  Christmas  greeting  to  everybody  in  the 
house.  He  was  indulged  in  this;  for  it 
was  of  little  consequence  now  what  he 
did.  He  appeared  at  each  bedside,  and 
at  every  sofa,  —  and  not  with  any  moving 
sentiment,  but  with  genuine  gayety.  It 
was  full  in  his  thoughts  that  he  had  not 
many  days  to  live,  but  he  hoped  the  oth- 
ers had ;  and  he  entered  into  their  pros- 
pect of  renewed  health  and  activity.  At 
night  they  said  that  Patrick  had  brighten- 
ed their  Christmas  Day. 

He  died  very  soon  after,  —  sinking  at 
last  with  perfect  consciousness,  —  writing 
messages  to  me  on  his  slate  while  his  fin- 
gers would  hold  the  pencil,  —  calm  and 
cheerful  without  intermission.  After  his 
death,  when  the  last  offices  were  to  be 
begun,  my  letters  were  taken  warm  from 
his  breast.  Every  line  that  I  had  ever 
written  to  him  was  there ;  and  the  packet 

was  sent  to  me  by  Doctor  H bound 

round  with  the  green  ribbon  which  he 
had  himself  tied  before  he  quite  lost 
the  power.     The  kind  friends  who  had 


1861.] 


The  Young  Repealer. 


345 


Watched  over  him  during  the  months  of 
his  London  life  wrote  to  me  not  to  trouble 
myself  about  his  funeral.  They  buried 
him  honorably,  and  two  of  his  distinguish- 
ed friends  followed  him  to  the  grave. 

Of  course,  I  immediately  performed 
my  promise.  I  had  always  intended  that 
not  only  the  young  lady,  but  her  father, 
should  know  what  we  thought  of  Patrick, 
and  what  he  might  have  been,  if  he  had 
lived.  I  wrote  to  that  potential  person- 
age, telling  him  of  all  the  facts  of  the 
case,  except  the  poverty,  which  might  be 
omitted  as  essentially  a  slight  and  tempo- 
rary circumstance.  I  reported  of  his  life 
of  industry  and  simple  self-denial, — of  his 
prospects,  his  friendships,  his  sweet  and 
gay  decline  and  departure,  and  his  hon- 
orable funeral.  No  answer  was  needed ; 
and  I  had  supposed  there  would  hardly 
be  one.  If  there  should  be  one,  it  was 
not  likely  to  be  very  congenial  to  the 
mood  of  Patrick's  friends  :  but  I  could 
hardly  have  conceived  of  anything  so 
bad  as  it  was.  The  man  wrote  that  it 
was  not  wonderful  that  any  young  man 
should  get  on  under  the  advantage  of 
my  patronage ;  and  that  it  was  to  be 
hoped  that  this  young  man  would  have 
turned  out  more  worthy  of  such  patron- 
age than  he  was  when  he  ungratefully 
returned  his  obligations  to  his  employer 
by  engaging  the  affections  of  his  daugh- 
ter. The  young  man  had  caused  great 
trouble  and  anxiety  to  one  who,  now  he 
was  dead,  was  willing  to  forgive  him ;  but 
no  circumstance  could  ever  change  the 
aspect  of  his  conduct,  in  regard  to  his 
treacherous  behavior  to  his  benefactor; 
and  so  forth.  There  was  no  sign  of  any 
(jonsciousness  of  imprudence  on  the  fa- 


ther's own  part;  but  strong  indications 
of  vindictive  hatred,  softened  in  the  ex- 
pression by  being  mixed  up  with  odious 
flatteries  to  Patrick's  literary  friends. 
The  only  compensation  for  the  disgust 
of  this  letter  was  the  confirmation  it  af- 
forded of  Patrick's  narrative,  in  which, 
it  was  clear,  he  had  done  no  injustice  to 
his  oppressor. 

I  have  not  bestowed  so  much  thought 
as  this  on  the  man  and  his  letter,  from 
the  day  I  received  it,  till  now ;  but  it  was 
necessary  to  speak  of  it  at  the  close  of 
the  story.  I  lose  sight  of  the  painful  in- 
cidents in  thinking  of  Patrick  himselfi 
I  only  wish  I  had  once  seen  his  face,  that 
I  might  know  how  near  the  truth  is  the 
image  that  I  have  formed  of  him. 

There  may  have  been,  there  no  doubt 
have  been,  other  such  young  Irishmen, 
whose  lives  have  been  misdirected  for 
want  of  the  knowledge  which  Patrick 
gained  in  good  time  by  the  accident  of 
his  coming  to  England.  I  fear  that  many 
such  have  lived  a  life  of  turbulence,  or 
impotent  discontent,  under  the  delusion 
that  their  country  was  politically  oppress- 
ed. The  mistake  may  now  be  considered 
at  an  end.  It  is  sufficiently  understood 
in  Ireland  that  her  woes  have  been  from 
social  and  not  political  causes,  from  the 
day  of  Catholic  emancipation.  But  it  is 
a  painful  thought  what  Patrick's  short  life 
might  have  been,  if  he  had  remained  un- 
der the  O'Connell  influence ;  and  what 
the  lives  of  hundreds  more  have  been,— 
rendered  wild  by  delusion,  and  wretched 
by  strife  and  lawlessness,  for  want  of  a 
gleam  of  that  clear  daylight  which  made 
a  sound  citizen  of  a  passionate  Young 
Kepealer. 


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